Chapter Six : Nikko

Nikko gets ready for basketball tryouts and meets some racial obstacles along the way.

I looked up at the clock, 10 minutes until the bell rings and my future begins. I tapped my pencil on my desk as Ms. Hall continued ranting about atoms and connection. I stared at the clock, fantasizing about the basketball tryout.

“Nikko Callon!” Ms. Hall screeched, looking straight at me with a glare that was anything but pleasant. “Pay attention! There will be a test on this chapter in a couple of days and I promise all of you that this will be on it!” She pointed back at the bored and continued her lesson.  I laughed a little and shook my head.

“When is she going to realize that Biology literally means nothing to me?” I thought, scratching the side of my head as I continued tapping my pencil on my desk.

The bell finally rang and Ms. Hall muffled something about homework but, I darted from the room to quickly to even hear the name of the assignment. I sped walked to the gym, ignoring people as they walked up to say hi or ask about another assignment I didn’t listen too. I skidded into the gymnasium and walked up to the table handing out numbers and those long, tedious information packets. The woman sitting at the table, who didn’t look familiar at all, pointed to the boys locker room, never even looking up at me. I shrugged and slid past, heading into the locker room.

`               This front part of the locker room was already full of guys, most of them previous parts of the team. I kept walking, trying to stay as low key as possible, and found that the second part of the locker room was completely deserted. The two parts were separated by a wall of lockers and I was more than happy to be away from the chaos on the other side.           

I sat down in the far right corner of the locker room, trying to get some peace and quiet for a couple minutes. My tryout was in 10 minutes and I couldn’t even stop to breathe. There’s so much riding on this. This could get me a ride in for college; this could open up my entire future. One bad basket and that could all go away and then what? There is no backup plan. This has always been the one and only plan. My mind started wandering to everything that could go wrong. What if I miss every basket I shoot for? What if I trip on my laces and fall on my face so hard that I have to go to the nurse for something as dumb as a nose bleed. I glanced down at my shoelaces, making sure to tighten them. I looked back up and ran my hands through my almost nonexistent hair. I was making way too big of a deal out of this. It’s just my future, not anything important.

                I stood and opened my locker, sorting through my things nervously. My hands trembled as I pulled my phone and headphones into my bag. I’ve never been so nervous that it caused me to shake. I slammed my locker and sat back down, covering my face with my hands. I felt sick to my stomach but, I knew once I was on that court, it’d go away. I raised my head and looked over the horribly yellow lockers at the multiple trophies sitting on top of them. Each one was a different height but, none of them were considerably tiny. I sat my head in the palms of my hands and stared at the locker, thinking about how many of those trophies will soon be because of me.

                “Hey Brown Sugar”, a lumbering Caucasian said as he entered my side of the locker room. Being one of the only black guys in school caused these different nicknames. He walked straight over to my bench, his 2 goons following closely behind, and towered over me as I sat. I shook my head and stood, becoming at least 3 inches taller than him. He was definitely larger than me but, I beat him with height.

                “I told you to stop calling me that, Shrimp.” I towered over him as he had to look straight up to see my face. He had a smug look permanently glued to his face. I looked down at his uniform, which looked a lot newer than mine. Although the same blue and yellow pattern, his seemed to fit him a lot better. Mine was baggy just about everywhere.

                “I can call you whatever I want.” He smirked a little harder than he was before, pushing my shoulder back. I fumbled, almost falling backwards over the bench. I regained my balance and glared back at him. His entourage chuckled, staring at me like I was a slice of pizza to them. I shot a look at them as well before speaking up.

                “Derek, just leave me alone okay? I’ve got a tryout to prepare for.” I waved my hand in his face and walked around the bench, walking toward the door. I froze as the intercom came on and announced my number along with five others through the locker room. I took a deep breath, my shoulders rising probably farther than they should’ve, and continued toward the door.

                “Good luck Chocolate Bar.” Derek chuckled with his little entourage in the corner. I kept walking, ignoring them all together. No one was going to ruin this day.